


Mama Bear

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobbi's usually the overbearing, paranoid mother, but Jemma has her moments too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the final spot on my femtropebingo card. It's a free space but I decided to go with kid fic.

“Should I be concerned about the amount of time my best friend and my wife are suddenly spending alone together?” Jemma asks as she takes in the scene before her.

“You’d better not let Fitz hear you calling me your best friend,” Skye says absently, tapping away at her laptop keyboard. “You know he takes that title very seriously.”

“Honestly, I’d prefer it if Bobbi was secretly hanging out with Fitz,” Jemma confessed, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’d probably just make her test gun prototypes. I’m far more concerned about what kind of trouble two spies can get themselves into.”

Bobbi gets up from her seat next to Skye and walks across the room to peck Jemma on the lips.

“How was work, sweetie?” she asks. “Any progress on that serum May brought back from Dubai?”

Jemma might not be a spy, but she’s lived and worked with them long enough to notice how Bobbi’s angling her body to block Jemma’s view of the computer screen.

Whatever they’re up to, it’s probably dangerous, or at the very least, illegal.

“What are you two hacking into?” Jemma glares at Bobbi.

“Work stuff. It’s on a need to know basis,” Bobbi replies.

“Are you trying to tell me that my clearance isn’t high enough to know?” Jemma cocks an eyebrow at Bobbi. “We’re all on the same level.”

“I’m hacking the sperm bank,” Skye says before Jemma can press any further.

“Skye,” Bobbi hisses at the same time Jemma yells, “What?”

“Bobbi asked me to hack the sperm bank you two plan to use,” Skye clarifies. “Bobbi wants more intel in the donors.”

“There’s a reason that information is private,” Jemma addresses Bobbi rather than Skye.

“Yes, and that works well for most people, but we’re not most people. In our line of work, we need more assurance,” Bobbi argues.

“What, are you worried there’s some evil gifted out there trying to amass a child army through a sperm bank?” Jemma scoffs.

“Well it wouldn’t be the craziest thing we’ve ever encountered,” Bobbi throws her hands up in frustration. “I just want to be sure that this doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

“So you snuck around behind my back?” Jemma yells, then turns on her heel and stomps out of the room.

Bobbi follows after her, but not before turning to a stunned Skye and saying, “Print all the records, just in case.”

She still thinks she has a shot at talking Jemma around to the idea.

\--

“Elena Ludlow seems like a promising choice,” Jemma says brightly, holding up the girl’s resume. “She says she works well under pressure and she’s in graduate school for early childhood education.”

“Not enough experience,” Bobbi says dismissively, taking the paper from Jemma’s hand and placing it on the ‘no’ pile.

All there is is a no pile.

“Then what about Jackie Brown?” Jemma suggests, digging another resume out of the pile. “She spent two years as an au pair, one in Brazil and one in Lithuania, she has a brown belt in Judo, and she speaks five languages.”

“I don’t know,” Bobbi wavers.

“She’s the perfect nanny,” Jemma sighs. “In fact, she’s overqualified for the position.”

“Exactly,” Bobbi says. “She speaks five languages, graduated top of her class with a double major, and she has CPR training. Why would she want to be a nanny? Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

Jemma hangs her head in frustration. This is their third round of interviews, and Bobbi promised they’d actually pick someone this time.

They need to pick someone. Bobbi’s maternity leave ends next week and neither of them can just take the boys to work with them. Although the idea of Bobbi jumping out of a plane with an infant strapped to each breast is more than a little amusing. Jemma doesn’t even entertain thoughts of them near the dangerous chemicals she works with.

“Fine,” Bobbi says. “Maybe the perfect nanny just happened to fall into our laps. But I know from experience that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. I’m not risking Timothy and Nicholas’s lives when it feels wrong.”

Ignoring Bobbi, Jemma gets up and grabs her cell phone. She quickly chooses a contact and walks into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her so Bobbi can’t follow.

Well she could, but Bobbi’s learned that using her training to interrupt Jemma when she wants to be alone usually doesn’t end well. Not that this is going well to begin with.

Bobbi waits on the couch for nearly and hour before Jemma exits the bedroom with a smile on her face.

“I hired a nanny,” she announces.

“Jackie Brown? But I told you—“

“Not Jackie Brown,” Jemma assures her. “Sharon said she has an old co-worker—“

“An old CIA co-worker? I’m listening,” Bobbi sounds hopeful.

“She just retired and is looking for something with a slower pace,” Jemma explains. “She’s 65 and it’s been a while since she was in the field, but Sharon says she’s up to snuff and good with kids to boot.”

“I could agree to that,” Bobbi smiles.

“Good, because I already promised her the apartment above the garage.”

\--

“I thought I was supposed to be the overbearing parent,” Bobbi comments as Jemma glares at the computer screen.

“And I thought the most prestigious preschools in Washington, DC would be more prompt,” Jemma hits the refresh button yet again.

“Jem, it’s been a week,” Bobbi lays a comforting hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “They’ve probably got a ton of other applicants to meet with.”

The first couple of days of watching Jemma obsessively check on their preschool applications were kind of funny. At this point, though, Jemma’s bad mood is starting to permeate the entire household. Even Nicky’s mentioned that Mummy’s acting weird, and Timmy’s much quieter than usual.

“They shouldn’t even need a week to decide,” Jemma grumbles. “We have two three-year-olds with perfect manners and exemplary intelligence. They should be begging us to come to their school. The only issue I could think of would be if other applicants have more money and are using it to sway opinion on their favor.” She pauses to consider her words, then hangs her head. “Oh dear, I sound like one of those mothers.”

Bobbi chuckles and rubs her hand up and down Jemma’s back, “Which is why we should get out of the house and do something to distract you. How about a picnic lunch at the playground.”

Bobbi can see that Jemma’s torn between another few hours of staring at the computer screen, and taking a break. Jemma’s been surgically attached to the computer ever since they finished doing interviews, and Bobbi’s hoping they’ll all get a break from the stress soon.

“That sounds lovely,” Jemma eventually agrees. “But can we do something else first?”

“What would that be?” Bobbi asks. Jemma’s blushing and that makes Bobbi suspicious.

“I realize this makes me a giant hypocrite, and you’re never going to let me live this down,” Jemma rambles, “but I think we should call Skye.”

As stressed as Jemma has been about this, Bobbi never imagined that she’d resort to this.

“You want Skye to hack into each preschool’s computer system to check on our applications?” she asks in disbelief.

Jemma’s blush deepens and she nods, “If they’ve uploaded notes about our application or our interview, we should be able to find some sort of hint about the likelihood of our acceptance.”

Bobbi grins and says, “You pack the picnic basked, and I’ll call Skye. Maybe she and the girls can meet us at the playground and she can do it from there.”

Jemma is visibly relieved and finally gets up from her spot in front of the computer.

“And Jemma?” Bobbi says as her wife heads for the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“You were right, I won’t let you live this down,” Bobbi teases.

Jemma groans.


End file.
